


Café De La Nuit

by Doomsayer (owwfeels)



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24472342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owwfeels/pseuds/Doomsayer
Summary: Most of the people that came through Jonathan's little cafe were only there for his cappuccinos and latte art. But a gruff officer with a penchant for black coffee will change all of that.
Relationships: Geoffrey McCullum/Jonathan Reid
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59





	Café De La Nuit

**Author's Note:**

> A coffee shoppe au with these two was too good to pass up. Enjoy!

“I’ll have a black coffee,” the rugged officer had made it a habit of coming in around closing time for the past week or so. Café De La Nuit was locally renowned for the barista and his cappuccino and coffee art. The first time this officer had come in – Officer McCullum according to the badge- and asked for a plain black coffee he assumed it was joke. Most of his patrons were transient. He didn’t really have regulars. Most of his customers were hipsters and city folk passing through for Instagram pics or social clout.  
  
“Is that all for your sir?” he gently set the coffee down in front of the man and went about starting to clean the shop for closing. The officer simply nodded and gave him a wave of appreciation before he left; a very generous tip now occupying the counter space. Jonathan couldn’t help by smile. Despite the lack of general conversation, they’d developed somewhat of a routine. He’d usually come in every evening during the week around closing time and sit until it was time for him to lock up.  
  
“Names Geoffrey …. By the way,” he’d said, weeks into their quiet ritual. He’d had to do a double take, at first not realizing where the heavy Irish accent had come from.  
  
“Jonathan,” he smiled as he wiped the counter down after the coffee finished brewing. Regardless of when the officer showed up, he’d make a new pot. The officer gave him a faint smile as jonathan handed him his coffee, and then made his exit as he usually did; generous tip on the counter.   
  
It would be another few weeks before he saw the man again. And Jonathan would be lying if he said he wasn’t concerned. Their routine had been going on for a few months now, and he was worried he’d done something wrong. Had he upset the man in some way? Had something happened?  
  
His head shot up as the all too familiar jingle of the door bell alerted him to a new customer. It was getting close to closing time and it had been an unusually slow day… so to see Geoffrey standing in the doorway after almost a month both brought about a sense of relief and worry. The usually stoic officer was lilting as he walked to towards his usual spot, his frame seeming to sag under the weight of the day.  
  
“Black coffee?” Jonathan murmured, trying to look the man over. But the layers of black police uniform didn’t offer much information.  
  
“Aye…” his voice was thready, the palor of his skin was oddly pale, and his forehead covered in a faint sheen of sweat. All of his medical training, however basic, was setting off alarms in his head. This man was in pain of some kind… Something was wrong.  
  


“I uh… haven’t seen you around in a while,” he was usually content to enjoy their mutual silence, but he was concerned.  
  
“Been… busy,” Geoffrey took a deep sip of the coffee, his breath hitching slightly as he swallowed. Jonathan just nodded, unnerved by the casual tone of his voice, and the faint dripping sound he’d noticed. Was his machine on the fritz? He moved around the counter to check his carafes and creamer. Blood was dripping off the stool the officer had haphazardly collapsed onto and puddling in the floor beneath him.  
  
“You’re bleeding!” Jonathan froze, bar towel clutched in his hand.  
  
“Oh… am I… ?” He glanced down at his side, the hand he’d been pressing against it now covered in deep crimson, the black fabric of his uniform slashed deeply just below his left shoulder. Geoffrey started to pitch backward, caught by Jonathan’s trembling hands as he eased the wounded man into the floor.  
  
“You need to go to the hospital...” he was fumbling with his cell phone, only to have McCullum grab it out of his hand and slide it away from them.  
  
“No… no hospitals…” he swallowed thickly as his eyes squeezed shut.  
  
“I... I don’t think…” Jonathan didn’t even have the appropriate supplies here.  
  
“You’re the only person the knows I’m alive still… I can’t go to the hospital. I shouldn’t have even come here…” He scrambled to try and sit up, groaning in pain as more blood oozed from the stab wound in his chest.  
  
“Ok… ok,” he guided Geoffrey to lay back. He got up to lock the door and shut the main lights off. If whoever did this was still looking for the officer, that meant Jonathan was also in danger. He disappeared into the storage closet and reemerged with an arm full of various supplies. He didn’t have much in the way of medical supplies, but he would make do.

“I’ve very limited supplies here… just a basic first aid and suture kit,” he knelt down and carefully unhooked the bullet proof vest, pulling the front portion of it off so he could get a better look.  
  
“They… they aren’t really made to stop knives,” Geoffrey’s voice wavered, visibly nervous as Jonathan started to unbutton and remove his uniform shirt. The white undershirt was sticking to his skin, blood oozing from a deep stab wound in his chest, notched under the left side of his collar bone. The wound looked clean at least… the edges were neat and the skin wasn’t torn. Jonathan packed a bar towel against the wound, Geoffrey groaning in pain as he applied even pressure and set about removing the rest of the bloodied undershirt.

“It doesn’t seem like they hit anything major…” The original bar towel he’d packed against the wound had already soaked through so he swapped it out for a clean one.  
  
‘They got me from behind… ambushed me a couple blocks away,” he wheezed, the feeling of Jonathan’s hand pressing against his wound sending a jolt of agony through his chest. The barista stared down at him owlishly… cursing himself for not doing a thorough check. He carefully rolled Geoffrey to his side and found the jagged entry point… Bowie knife then if he had to guess. More bar towels were packed against it before he rolled the officer back.  
  
“Dare I ask who ‘they’ are?” he’d pulled the suture kit out to thread the needle… only to realize there wasn’t any kind of analgesic or pain medicine in the kit.  
  
“They’ve been calling themselves the Wet Boot Boys.”  
  
It took everything in him to not let out a snort at the name. Apparently, McCullum had noticed. “Yeah, I thought so too. Stupid fuckin’ name for a’ gang if ye ask me,” he let out a pained noise; somewhere between a cough and a laugh.

“Here,” he grabbed the bottle of Irish whiskey from behind the counter.

“We don’t have any kind of pain medication or morphine…” Geoffrey raised an eyebrow at the whiskey but took a deep gulp anyways.

“It’s for the Irish Coffees,” Jonathan explained as he got to work suturing the wound. He was tying off the front sutures when Geoffrey passed out. It was a blessing in a way. He rolled the larger man onto his side and sutured the rest, making sure to keep an eye on his breathing. 

He gingerly wiped the blood from his skin and cleaned around the sutures before packing clean bar towels against them and wrapped them with bandages. He then set about cleaning up his little coffee shop… mopping up the blood and wiping Geoffrey’s bloody hand print off the door handle. He managed to wrangle the larger man into the small break room of the café and eased him down onto the old couch. There wasn’t much else in the small room besides as paint stained folding chair, and a mini fridge full of his different creamers and milk.  
  
He grabbed a couple old blankets and a throw pillow from the storage closet and did his best to make the officer comfortable. As comfortable as one could be with a through and through knife wound in their chest. He took up vigil in the harsh metal chair, knowing he wouldn’t be getting much sleep until he was sure Geoffrey was stable and in no danger of crashing while he slept.

* * *

Jonathan startled awake to the sound of someone rattling and banging on the front door violently. He scrambled to his feet and locked the door to the backroom. He had no means of defending himself… and he wasn’t really sure he’d be capable of doing so even if he had the means.  
  
“I know you’re in there McCullum… hiding with your little coffee boy,” a gruff voice yelled, the door still rattling violently. Jonathan dared not move… and stayed in the backroom for a few hours; just to be sure it was safe to come out. It was nearly evening again by the time Geoffrey regained consciousness.  
  
“Morning sunshine,” Jonathan already had a cup of black coffee ready for him.

“Thanks…” his hands shook slightly as he took a deep drink.  
  
“You really shouldn’t be drinking caffeine with the state of your injuries… but I know how you like your black coffee,” Jonathan smiled, glad to see he was at least able to sit up slightly and drink.  
  
“Thanks,” he nodded, and quietly finished off the coffee, eyes half-lidded, body clearing sore and aching.  
  
“You had some … visitors earlier,” the color seemed to drain from Geoffrey’s face, brow furrowed as he stared intently into the nearly empty cup of coffee.  
  
“Did they give you any trouble?”  
  
“They rattled the door for a bit… I just kept the café closed today,” he smiled and waved it off, not thinking much of it. He was relieved that it hadn’t gone beyond that… but he would be lying if said he wasn’t worried about them coming back.  
  
“ ‘m sorry for putting you at risk… But I wasn’t sure where else to go. And you seemed a decent enough fellow,” Geoffrey was almost blushing. The color flushing into his cheeks.   
  
“I am just glad I was here. I must admit… I was worried when I didn’t see you in for a while. I’ve… quite gotten used to your company,” he smiled and sipped at his own coffee, feeling strangely comfortable, despite the situation.

“I should probably be on my way…” he leveraged his arm behind him and attempted to push himself off the couch, and Jonathan nearly had a heart attack. 

“You’re in no condition to be walking around…” he said tersely as je ruched over and slid his arm under Geoffrey’s good arm to support him. “You’ve got a through and through stab wound, and you lost a good amount of blood as well,” he helped him towards the bathroom, figuring out pretty quickly that was what he needed.  
  
“I’m not the doctor type but, that sounds bad,” McCullum chuckled softly to himself… he’d been on the police force long enough to know that Jonathan is the only reason he hadn’t bled out last night. There was an awkward moment once they’d made to the restroom… eventually Jonathan helped him sit on the toilet and left him to do his business.

“If… if you feel up to it my flat is only a couple blocks away,” he offered, helping him move back to the couch. He didn’t want to be too forward, but realistically they couldn’t stay in the store room for much longer. And he would feel better if he could tend to Geoffrey’s wounds with proper medical supplies.

“Are you sure?” Geoffrey was surprised. He was gracious for Jonathan’s hospitality, but didn’t want to overstay his welcome.

“I would actually like tend your wound with proper medical supplies,” he explained. The café would be fine for a few days. At least until he felt Geoffrey was recovered enough to fend for himself.  
  
“Lead the way then.”

* * *

“Let me grab my medical supplies and we’ll get you properly stitched up,” He eased McCullum down onto his bed and disappeared into the en suite bathroom. He returned with a comically large first aid kit.  
  
“It won’t feel good, but I have some numbing solution,” he drew up a syringe full of the clear liquid and waited for indication. He nodded and Jonathan got to work numbing the wound. He carefully removed the packed in bar towels and cleaned the wound beneath. His sutures seemed to be holding well, and now that it was properly cleaned, he was pleased with himself.  
  
“It looks good… the swelling has come down, and the sutures are holding well,” he pulled open a pack of sterile gauze and dressed the wound properly, wrapping it with new bandages. He packed up his medical kit and rifled through his drawer for something for Geoffrey to wear. Considering he’d ripped his undershirt off, and his uniform was still stained with blood.

“Here, it’s probably a little tight, but it’s something,” he offered the old tshirt and sweat pants, turning to leave the room to give him some privacy.  
  
“Thank you Jonathan…” Reid smiled as he closed the door to his bedroom behind him and let him get dressed.

Jonathan returned a few moments later to Geoffrey struggling to get the shirt over his head. He quietly moved forward and helped him slide his arm into the t-shirt. It was definitely a little small on him, the shirt clinging to every well-defined muscle. “Sorry I don’t have anything bigger,” he apologized, feeling the color rushing into his cheeks.  
  
“S’alright. Certainly, better than nothing,” Geoffrey shrugged, wincing as he strained his wound.  
  
“So… do you have family? A girlfriend?” Jonathan sat down on the foot of the bed, keeping a comfortable distance between them.

“No, no,” he chuckled, noticing the faint pink that had settled in the barista’s cheeks.  
  
“ ’Ah live alone. And uh… girls aren’t really mah type,” Geoffrey smirked, watching the other man intently to see his reaction.  
  
“O-oh,” Jonathan cleared his throat, tugging at his collar as he looked away.

“You ok there Jonathan? Ya seem a little flustered,” he had a cheeky grin on his face, watching the man turn into a tomato almost from blushing so hard.

“Y-yes. It just … it’s a little warm in here. Are you warm?” he deflected, nervously fidgeting with the collar of his shirt.  
  
McCullum smirked and sat up a little straighter, inadvertently moving closer to him. “I’m nothing to blush over… Surely I don’t make you that nervous?” he was genuinely surprised that he was having this effect on him.

“You are uh… very handsome,” he confessed, bashfully rubbing at the back of his neck, and certainly not staring at the shirt that was clinging to his muscles.

“You’re not bad lookin’ yourself,” Geoffrey confessed. He frankly thought the barista was well out of his league. He’d take to coming into the coffee shop because it was quiet, and the company wasn’t too shabby. He’d heard about the place because of the fancy social media grade “coffee art”. Of which he had no interest in partaking in… but he figured the shop was close to his patrol route. And someone that cared that much about coffee to make art with it, probably cared enough to have a decent roast.

It all spiraled from there. He got so comfortable with their routine. And then he caught word that the Wet Boot Boys had plans to rob the place. Which further pushed him to continue his nightly routine. Until Digby had confronted him… threatening the barista and the little coffee shop.

“You should probably get some rest,” Jonathan stood up suddenly, face still flushed, and heart racing.

“Aye… thank you again,” he nodded, feeling a bit morose at the thought of being alone, but he would be lying if he said he wasn’t exhausted. He’d taken quite a beating prior to Booth running him through with a knife. It was a small miracle he’d even managed to stumble his way into the little coffee shop. And an even bigger one he seemed to have found his way into the barista's heart as well.

**Author's Note:**

> The irony of this story is that I don't even like coffee. But the opportunity for a coffee shop!au with these two was too good to pass up. I'm not responsible for any awws, cooing noises, or sappy reactions produced from reading this (I'm kidding of course xD)


End file.
